Lance: A Hitman Romance (Santa Espera #2)

by Harley Fox

  “Well, you just be careful around him,” Gregory goes on. “And make sure you’re safe at all times.”

  “Thank you Gregory, I will.” I look back up at the clock. “Well, I think that’s about all we can cover today.” We both stand up. “Same time next week?”

  “Ah, next week’s actually my granddaughter’s birthday,” he says. “I won’t be able to make it. But the week after that should be good.”

  “Wonderful.”

  I walk Gregory to the door and open it to see Amin looking stern, sitting at his desk. My heart flutters and I say goodbye to Gregory before peering my head around the corner. Standing and looking at that painting again, I see him. Lance. He turns to look at me and I find I have to swallow.

  “Lance?” I say, my voice almost cracking. “I can see you now.”

  When I pull my head back in, I see Gregory turn to watch, a scowl on his face. But Lance appears a moment later, looking calm as I open the door wider for him. He walks in past me and I ignore Gregory’s stare as I shut it behind him.

  “Well,” I say in a breathy voice, turning around. “I’m glad you decided to come back for a second appointment.”

  Lance only nods, his back to me as he walks to the chair. He doesn’t say anything as he sits down and I walk over to mine. But then I see my own writing on the notepad and realize that, in my haste, I forgot to file Gregory’s page away.

  I’ve never done that before. Come on, Katie, get a hold of yourself.

  “Just one moment,” I say with a smile as I rip off the top page and take it over to my desk.

  “Take your time,” comes Lance’s calm voice and my heart flutters again. I will it to settle down.

  Reaching my desk, I pull open the drawer and file the paper away. Then I walk back to my chair and sit down, picking up the pen and notepad, crossing my legs beneath my skirt and looking Lance straight in the eye. He looks back at me.

  “So,” I say.

  “So,” Lance repeats, that smile lingering on his lips. I swallow again.

  “You decided to come back,” I say to him. “I’ll be honest, I had my doubts that you would.”

  Lance’s eyes focus on mine for a moment.

  “I couldn’t pass up spending time with somebody so hot,” he says, as casually as if he’s talking about the weather. “Or so fucking good at sex.”

  I feel myself blush. Two seconds in and already this is happening. I told myself I would keep this professional. I tried not to think about him all week.

  “Need a little water, doc?” he asks. “I see you don’t have your bottle today.”

  I put a smile on my face and level my gaze at him.

  “You can try to embarrass me all you want, Lance. But I’ve been in this game a while, and I’ve seen everything every stubborn client has to offer. But unlike some of the girls you might take home at night, I’m sorry to say that I’m not as easy to fuck with.”

  His smile widens.

  “I beg to differ,” he says. I take a breath, calming myself.

  “Let’s start,” I say to him. “Last week you were telling me about your job — or, more precisely, the job of this guy you know. Tell me more about that.”

  Lance’s smile has slowly faded, and he settles back in his chair as he stares at me. He spreads his hands.

  “What would you like to know?”

  “Well … you said that he’s currently employed, killing people for money.”

  “That’s right.”

  “But not like someone in the armed forces, or a police officer. You said it was the opposite of that.”

  “You have a good memory,” he says. “All this without the notes you took.”

  I smile. “It’s all part of the job. But going back to that work, opposite … does that mean killing people, but not for a good cause?”

  Lance tilts his head.

  “That’s a relative way of looking at things.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well …” he glances around the room. “Let’s say you know this man. Steve. He’s a good father, he provides for his kids, and he takes care of his wife. He participates in his community too. You would probably say that Steve is a good man, wouldn’t you?”

  “I would probably say that, yes,” I admit. Lance smiles.

  “That’s right. But if we look closer at this man, we find out that he makes his money in not-so-good ways. He steals, or sells illegal firearms. And anybody who gets in his way, anybody who steps on his toes, well, he kills them.

  “Now, Steve isn’t a good man after all, is he?”

  I narrow my eyes.

  “No, I suppose not.”

  “No, he’s not,” Lance says, his smile fading away. “My friend kills those people.”

  I give a slow nod. “And I assume that your friend gets paid to kill these people?”

  “Very well, in fact,” Lance says.

  “Then isn’t your friend just as bad as those people he kills?” I ask. “He kills ‘bad people’ and gets money for it. But that’s the same as killing somebody in order to steal from them. Kill somebody, get money. The end result is the same.”

  “But the bad person kills innocent people,” Lance tells me. “My friend kills those bad guys.”

  “How do you know?” I ask. “How do you know that the people your friend is killing are all bad guys?”

  A flicker on Lance’s face and my senses heighten. I watch him closely.

  “I research,” he says, dropping the calm tone to his voice. “I make certain of it.”

  “Have you ever made a mistake?” I ask, and that flicker again, a muscle spasm just below his mouth.

  Lance turns his head to the window and doesn’t say anything, and I realize I’m getting too far too fast. I dial it back.

  “So, your friend,” I say in a nonchalant voice. “How long has he been in this business?”

  “A while,” Lance says, still not looking at me.

  “How long is a while? A year? Two years?”

  “Twenty,” he says, and I blink. I jot that down on the notepad. Looking at Lance and trying to guess his age, twenty years ago would put him at around ten or twelve.

  “That’s a long time,” I tell him. “And … does your friend work for himself? Or does he have a boss?”

  “A boss,” Lance says. His upper lip starts to curl and I watch it closely.

  “The same boss for twenty years?”

  “No. He’s gone through a few. Five.”

  “And this latest boss,” I ask, deciding to probe, “what’s he like?”

  His upper lip curls again and I jot that down as well.

  “He’s not the best,” Lance admits.

  “What do you mean?”

  Lance tilts his head. “Well, let’s just say that the work environment has been slowly changing. Falling apart.”

  “Oh? In what ways?”

  “He’s less predictable,” Lance says, and I watch him put a hand on his stomach. “Gil’s been asking my friend to do things he would never have asked before. Ever since he started getting into coke he’s been … acting crazy.”

  “Getting into coke … your boss or your friend?”

  “My boss,” Lance says, throwing me a look of annoyance before returning to the window.

  “Right,” I say, jotting it down. “It sounds like your friend doesn’t like working for Gil.”

  Lance shakes his head.

  “No,” he says. “He doesn’t.”

  I wait, my eyes trained on Lance’s face, but he doesn’t say anything more so I decide to switch gears.

  “What made your friend get into this line of work in the first place?”

  Lance doesn’t say anything. He just keeps looking out the window, his eyes half-closed.

  “Was it for the money?” I try prompting. “Or maybe for the thrill of it all?”

  Still nothing.

  “How about curiosity?”

  No response.

  “How about revenge?”


  “Just what’s the point of all this?” Lance snaps, finally looking at me again. My body tenses up but I keep my face placid, my eyes locked with his.

  “I’m just trying to get an idea of your situation,” I say in a calm voice. He’s still staring at me. “Because as I’m sure you’ve probably noticed, it’s good to talk about things, and dangerous to bottle them up. And if you do, in fact, want me to help you, then you can’t be afraid to let your feelings out.”

  Lance’s body rises and falls with every breath he takes, and then his eyes finally drop away from mine. He doesn’t turn his head, but seems to be looking at the carpet now. My heart skips and I quickly jot down “revenge” just as Lance begins to speak.

  “I was seven years old when it happened.” Lance is speaking in a low voice and I have to lean in to hear what he says. “I was supposed to be taking care of him. I was supposed to be watching him while he played.”

  “Who were you supposed to be watching?” I ask, my voice just as low as his.

  “Danny.” I jot it down quickly, my pen silent on the page. “My little brother. Four years old, he just wanted to go play. But I wanted to stay inside. Watch some TV.”

  Even though his eyes are down I see a glisten, just below Lance’s eyelashes. My heart begins to beat faster. This is it, I think. This is why I do this. I want to help this man. Despite his flaws, I can tell he’s a good person at heart.

  “Danny went out without me,” he says, and his voice is starting to crack. “He was only a kid, he didn’t know any better. And when my parents came home and we tried to find him … all that we found … was his … was his …”

  But Lance’s words disappear as he begins sobbing, and I quickly grab a Kleenex out of the box, handing it to him. He lifts his hand to take it and my heart is just hammering, but when his eyes raise to meet mine, something is wrong. He’s not sad, and that crying … it sounds more like … like …

  Laughter.

  I feel my mouth drop open as Lance takes the Kleenex from my hand and drops back into the chair, laughing to himself, dabbing away at his eyes.

  “How did I do?” he asks, giving me a bright, winning smile. “Do I get the Oscar now?”

  I could almost scream. I can’t believe this. In my entire career I’ve never met anybody who would … and using his own brother! It’s a struggle to keep my voice level.

  “So … that was just a lie,” I manage to get out. “Everything you said was a lie.”

  Lance gives a wet sniff. “It wasn’t a lie,” he says, his eyes meeting mine and for a moment looking somehow dangerous. “I just wanted to show you I’m not going to fall into your trap.”

  “What trap?” I ask him, and Lance rolls his eyes.

  “Jeez, I thought you had a good memory!” he says. “The blinds, the books, the angle of the chairs. Your desk, your demeanor. Fuck, even the way you dress and how you hold yourself! It’s all just a trap! Just fucking manipulation!”

  My heart is hammering again, but it’s not out of excitement.

  “My job is to help people,” I say to him. “If that means making opening up a bit easier, then that’s what I’ll do.”

  “Whatever,” he says.

  “Don’t whatever me! You wouldn’t blame a parent for pretending food is an airplane just to get their baby to eat. So why blame me for helping my clients be as comfortable as possible?”

  “Because at least the parent still eats the food!” Lance shouts, and for a moment I’m stunned. He looks actually angry now. “You act like you know everything and you help people with their problems. But when’s the last time somebody helped you, huh? When’s the last time you really opened yourself up to somebody else?”

  My mouth works for a moment, and finally I speak.

  “This isn’t about me,” I say to him. “This session is about you.”

  “It’s about both of us,” he says. “Because I saw the way you looked at me the moment you laid eyes on me. But unlucky for you, I don’t get involved with people who are fake.”

  “What?” I say. “What are you-”

  “You want me, admit it,” he says, leaning towards me in his chair. His eyes burn into mine and inside I feel my heart beating like a drum. But what he’s saying … I can’t …

  “No,” I lie to the both of us. “You’re wrong.”

  “Am I?” he asks, that smile curling his lips.

  “Yes,” I say too quickly. And then, “I think you’d better go.” I stand up, but Lance stands up too, almost at the same time. His eyes remain trained on me, and despite my words neither of us walks toward the door.

  “I don’t think you want me to go,” Lance says, and to my shock he takes a step towards me. I know I should move, but I feel frozen in place. He’s so big that even from this distance I feel him looming over me. “I think you want this, Katie, even though it goes against all the rules in the book.”

  I’m taking in deep breaths. My heart is pounding. My cheeks are flushed with heat.

  “Lance,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm, watching him take another step. “I’m going to refer you to another therapist. I think that what’s happening here and what you’re doing is highly unprofessional, and I-”

  He stops right in front of me and the words die in my throat. He’s so close now that I can smell him — he smells like leather and sex — and he smiles as he looks down at me.

  “You want this,” his voice rumbles, and in my mind I scream out, I do! I do want it! but still I don’t move. “You want my body, you want to feel me inside of you again. You want the thrill, the change in your life.” His words flow out of his mouth and into my ears and for some reason what he’s saying sounds so right. “You’ve been absolutely bored lately and you need something different, Katie. You need something that only I can give you. Something you’ve only dreamed about.”

  A hand touches my arm and I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding. My body starts to tremble, and I swallow at the dryness in my throat. Lance’s other hand finds my chin and he tilts my head up to look at him. Down in between my legs, my panties are soaked right through.

  “You want this,” he says, and I feel myself nodding. “Say it.”

  “I want this,” I say, and as the words leave my mouth I know that it’s true. Then, slowly, he leans his head down and at the last instant my eyes close, right before he kisses me. His lips press down firmly into mine.

  It’s been so long since I’ve been with another man, I feel like I’ve honestly forgotten how to kiss. But as his tongue pushes into my mouth I’m swiftly reminded, and I reciprocate, exploring him, taking him in. Reaching up with my hands, I slip underneath his open jacket and feel the hard muscles I’d only dreamed about right against my fingertips. He feels so good that I can’t stop from squeezing, clawing at him. I forgot how magical this could be.

  Lance breathes in through his nose as one of his hands slides down to my lower back. He pulls me closer, my breasts pressing against his hard chest. A thrill runs down through me and down below I feel something moving … something hard … something inside of Lance’s jeans that forces all other thought out of my head.

  Oh my God. Is this really happening? Lance grinds his hips forward, making my insides squirm and my pussy throb and glow. He’s hard for me. His tongue works faster in my mouth and I’m finding it hard to keep up. But just as I do, he breaks off our kiss, only to drop his head down to the side of my neck.

  Gasping breath makes its way into my lungs. My mouth hangs open as Lance’s mouth ravishes my throat, kissing me up and down, his tongue and his lips working together in perfect harmony.

  I feel the hand on my arm move to my blouse and I’m helpless to stop him as he begins undoing it. He works blindly, unfastening button after button, working all the way down my front. My heart beats hard and in the back of my mind some sliver of logic wriggles through and yells, Stop it! Stop what you’re doing, this is a patient and you are his doctor!

  But every other p
art of me doesn’t want to stop. Indeed, every other part of me wants to forge ahead. I want to experience this not just because of how good it feels, but because of how immoral, and unprofessional, and deliciously, brazenly wrong it is.

  With my blouse undone, Lance’s hand moves up to my bra and I feel him reach inside, scooping out one of my breasts. My insides shiver as his fingers run over my hard nipple, and his mouth detaches from my neck only to drop down, taking my breast in his mouth. It’s a struggle for me not to moan.

  Lance’s mouth and tongue move as though he’s known me his entire life. Wondrous, delicious thrills pour through me. Down below, I feel the hand that unbuttoned my blouse pulling at my skirt, hiking it up, inching it bit by bit. A cool caress of air licks at the tops of my thighs, and I feel his fingers brush against my bare skin.

  “Lance,” I breathe, my hands moving up automatically, grabbing onto his head. He pulls my nipple into his mouth as the fingers down below play with my panties. My eyes are closed as he runs back and forth, tracing along the elastic at my waist. And then they slip down inside and I gasp loudly and bite my lip when he finds my soaking wetness, waiting there for him.

  All thought leaves my head. Lance traces down, guiding his fingers past my aching clit, down to the wetness below. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. His mouth pulls harder at my nipple as he strokes me, and I feel my toes start to curl inside of my high heel shoes. My body is trembling already and my knees go weak, but he’s still got a hand on my back and uses his strength to easily hold me in place.

  Lance keeps sucking, keeps stroking my pussy and clit as, behind my eyelids, I see only blurred color and dancing, exquisite light. My brain is gone and my body’s taken over. Everything feels so wonderful and it’s all happening so fast. I suck in short, staccato breaths as Lance pushes me up and up, higher, higher, until finally I have to clamp my lips shut, stifling my cries as I come.

  I hear Lance let out a moan against my breast as my thighs squeeze tightly together. But even still, Lance keeps working. I writhe against him, thrashing my hips, moving like a snake within his strong, manly grasp. But he works on me hard and forces those brilliant colors to flow past my eyes. I swear I can hear my own heartbeat, pounding strongly in my ears.